Loud and Clear
by Her sister's keeper
Summary: ( Loosely inspired by Hailee Steinfeld's "Starving") "She had slept with her manger. That much she would admit. However, there wasn't a chance in hell that she'd admit her infatuation with the man ten years her senior, not when she was twenty-one and at the height of her fame."


His client was a complicated girl.

Kylo Ren sat, back to the studio's window, eyes closed as he listened to the singer's voice belting the first verse for a second time, her constant rehearsals paying off, her pitch never wavering and he felt a proud grin form on his lips. He could tell what she was doing at any moment, as long as he heard her voice. That was his gift, as a music producer, as a manager, as a former performer. She was his "protégé" of sorts—and it was of the utmost importance that he knew her so well, be it from a glance, be it from how specific words were sang with a particular inflection.

For example, he could tell that there was a smile on her lips with how she sang a certain line.

That particular line, the one that they had debated about the other night, the one that lead them to argue with heated hands on skin, fiery lips meeting as they continued to snipe at each other about keeping the damn line or not needing the filthy thing. He considered himself a professional, but when it came to the younger songstress, he found himself five years younger, back when his temper forced him out of the direct spotlight, back when his urges were stronger—at least he had thought, before he fucked his client against her coffee table.

Now it was back to business, back to dealing with her voice, back to just protecting her voice with his life and career. Still, all Kylo could think was how her mouth had felt against his throat, against his cock, and he forced himself to focus on her voice, focus on the first thing that had drawn him. The one thing that he knew better than anything about her, the one part of her that he could always rely on when it came to his little popstar.

Her voice. So crisp, so clear, and some days the only thing that kept him from asking her to be his, because with talent like hers, who'd want to be tied down by him? Officially, though he knew that she was his where it counted, especially the other night by the way she moved on top of him, the way that she had relinquished the control she had had, her gasps still musical, and he bit his cheek to stay composed.

Rey Kenobi watched the lithe man glance back at her, and if she was two years younger, if this was back when she was just starting out as his major "project", she'd have blushed, especially as her mouth curled around a lewd word. She wanted to roll her eyes, knowing that a sultry music video would probably be drawn up around that one line, that Ren would act all indignant when really he was just hot under the collar.

Instead, she returned the level gaze, hazel eyes meeting dark brown, quirking an eyebrow at his heated look before she crossed her eyes, looking back at her mic. Despite her smirk, Rey knew that she was in trouble, could feel herself tremble from how heavy his gaze was on her frame, and she wondered what she could do to go back and change it.

She had slept with her manger. That much she would admit. However, there wasn't a chance in hell that she'd admit her infatuation with the man ten years her senior, not when she was twenty-one and at the height of her fame.

There was no way that she'd admit that when she had just began settling herself into the idea of forgetting the infatuation, had settled into the idea of channeling all those pent up feelings, all that tension into her music. There was no way for him to know, usually. She'd have her songwriting friends over, but really, Poe and Finn usually were there to keep it light, feed her junk food when Kylo wasn't looking, gossip with her about her "mystery" crush, any relationship rumors, any award shows coming up.

Oh yes, she was usually so good at fooling him into thinking that she was a mostly thoughtless dolt, a pretty bimbo with a voice like gold who had other people write her angsty ballads and chart-topping hits.

But really, she knew that he didn't believe it. Rey snuck a glance at Kylo, quickly averting her eyes when she saw his eyes already on her, a smile tugging at his lips but his stare hard, nonetheless. He had been trying to figure her out from day one.

They both knew as much. And they both knew that they pretended certain things to make their relationship easier.

For instance, Kylo pretended that he hasn't seen Rey write her songs, usually at her condo's kitchen counter, oversized t-shirt, sweatpants, messy bun and coffee being consistent tell-tale signs that her scribbling was lyrical, especially in the morning, whenever he let himself in. In return, Rey would pretend that her manager was a hardass who couldn't take a joke, when in truth, after hours, once the press was gone, once the show was done for the night, Kylo was the first one check on everyone, the one to call for food, was the one usually cracking some god-awful joke, being teased until his ears were red from laughter and embarrassment.

They both would pretend that they didn't notice their tension, an electric jolt that flickered between them, even when they were being quiet in the back of the town car after a long award show. So yes, today they were playing pretend that they didn't bicker and then fuck the other night, because Kylo was pretending that someone else wrote the song, and Rey was pretending that, if she had written the song, it was completely about someone else.

Of course, pretending would be working out so much better if she could get through the damn phrase, Rey realizing that she tripped over the words again, forgetting the lyrics' reoccurrence in the hook. She couldn't get her gaze up, knowing that his eyes were confused, worried, forcing her head to the side, avoiding any eye contact. Tears bit at her eyelids, and she sniffled, feeling her shoulders shrinking as her bravado folded in, her lips trembling as the music faded, as Kylo quietly told the audio crew to take ten, shooing them out.

She expected him to stay quiet, to let her cry it out and compose herself, like how he used to in their first year working together. But many things had changed since their first year and the quiet click of the recording booth's door reminded her of that, Kylo's hand gentle as he shut the door behind him. Rey still kept her eyes averted, training them on the ceiling as she gulped, trying to still her shuddering, trying not to out and out sobin front of him.

She hated his concern, hated how vulnerable she felt, especially now, because this level of exposure was so new. Two years ago, when she was nineteen, if she cried, it was because she was so new, so overwhelmed and unsure of her place among the glitz and glamour of celebrities. In those moments, he had seen her tears, but he had assured her, over and over again, that it was okay, that he had felt like that too, years ago.

But now the tears came because she just did not want to pretend anymore. That terrified Rey, and it made her breath deepen, her lips to crack a smile at Kylo as she turned to him, trying to pretend anyways.

"I'm fine. I'm going to get it this time." Her lip quivered when he shook his head at her, the space between them heavy and screaming for resolution.

"Rey, I…"

"I know, Kylo." He paused, saw her shaking in disbelief—maybe at him, maybe at herself. "You're sorry. It's okay. I know that you didn't mean to have sex with me. It was a mistake…and that's okay." Rey laughed at herself now, feeling tears welling up and breaking with her chuckle.

"I can find a new manager, I'm sure—it'll be a lot less awkward for you, and I bet you just want to never look at me again, so good riddance, right?" She felt herself babbling, and she knew that if she kept talking through her tears, her voice would break, would shrivel up for the day, would render every attempt at recording useless, but she didn't want to quiet herself. "After all, what's more embarrassing than having a client to be completely lovesick and writing songs about you? I mean, besides me not being able to shut up."

Kylo wished he could make himself move, as frozen as he was, wishing that he could shush her, that he could pull her close and smooth her hair, kiss her and make it better. Instead, he grabbed her hands before she could hide her face.

"Hey. Hey, hey, hey. Rey, look at me." He could see how torn she was, calming with his soft tone, but still internally panicking, her wild eyes giving away her fear. He didn't particularly care if someone was to walk in right now, if someone were to see them as he pulled her in, cradling her head against his chest, heart squeezing as she absentmindedly nuzzled her face against his neck, as she trained her eyes on his chin.

"It wasn't a mistake. You should know by now that everything I do, at least, when it comes to you, is intentional." She could feel his arms tighten around her, and she buried her face into his shirt, suddenly unsure of her ability to meet his eyes.

"Rey, sweetheart, look at me." Kylo couldn't help his smile as he sighed at her. She shook her head and his sigh deepened as he leaned closer to her ear. "If you want another manager, though, I understand."

"No." Rey pulled him tighter, heads bumping as he chuckled at her, seeing her eyes peek up at him as he chuckled again. When her lips brushed his jaw shyly, he almost wondered if he was dreaming, but then he felt her body brush against his as she tiptoed to reach his lips, bringing him in closer, and he knew he was awake.

Blissfully, wonderfully awake.

There were still so many details to work out—what they would tell the press, what they would tell their family and friends. But at least there wasn't any room for regret, and as Kylo's grip tightened so that she was snugly against him, Rey grew content, no longer worried about the song.

No, not now that they had heard each other, loud and clear.


End file.
